En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Poem for Molly's Fortieth Birthday

'Why do you
have stripes
in your forehead,
Mama?
Are you
old?'

Not old.
But not so
young
that I cannot
see
the world contracting
upon itself
& the circle
closing
at the end.

As the furrows
in my brow
deepen,
I can see
myself
sinking back
into that childhood
street
I walked along
with my grandfather,
thinking he was old
at sixty-three
since I was four,
as you are four
to my forty.

Forty years
to take
the road out . . .
Will another forty
take me
back?

Back to the street
I grew up on,
back to
my mother's breast.
back to the second
world war
of a second
child,
back
to the cradle
endlessly
rocking?

I am young
as you are
Molly-
yet with stripes
in my brow;
I earn my youth
as you must earn
your age.

These stripes
are decorations
for my valor-
forty years
of marching
to a war
I could not declare,
nor locate,
yet have somehow
won.

Now,
I begin
to unwin,
unravelling
the sleeves
of care
that have
stitched up
this brow,
unravelling
the threads
that have kept
me scared,
as I pranced
over the world,
seemingly fearless,
working
without a net,
knowing
if I fell
it would
only be
into that same
childhood street,
where I dreaded
to tread
on the lines-
not knowing
the lines
would someday
tread
on me.

Molly,
when you are forty,
read this poem
& tell me:
have we won
or lost
the war?

poem by Erica Jong
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Little Sadie

Went down last night to take a look around
Met little Sadie and I blew her down, went right home, went to bed
Forty-four colt smokes under my head
And I began to think what a deed I'd done
Grabbed my hat and away I run, made a good run, but a little too slow
They overtook me in Jericho
I'm standin' on the corner ringin' the bell
Along came the sheriff from Thomasville
Says "Young man, your name's Brown,
Remember the night you blew Sadie down?"
Oh, yes sir, my name is Lee,
I murdered little Sadie in the first degree
First degree and the second degree
Got any papers won't you read 'em to me.
They took me downtown all dressed in black
Put me on the train and sent me back
Sent me back to the county jail, I had nobody to go for my bail
The judge and the jury they took the stand
The judge hold the paper in his right hand
Forty-one days, forty-one nights,
Forty-one years to wear the ball and stripes

song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Little Sadie

Went out last night to take a little round.
I met my little sadie and I brought her down.
I ran right home and I went to bed
With a forty-four smokeless under my head.
I began to think what a deed Id done,
I grabbed my hat and I began to run.
I made a God run but I ran too slow;
They overtook me down in jericho
Standing on a corner ringin my bell,
Up stepped the sheriff from thomasville.
He said young man is you name brown?
Remember the night you blowed little sadie down.
Oh, yes sir, my name is lee.
I murdered little sadie in the first degree.
First degree and second degree,
If youve got any papers will you serve them to me?
Well they took me down town and they dressed me in black.
They put me on a train and they brought me back.
I had no one for to go my bail;
They crammed me back into the county jail.
The judge and the jury they took their stand.
The judge had the papers in his right hand.
Forty-one days, forty-one nights;
Forty-one years to wear the ball and the stripes.

song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Search Of Little Sadie

Went out last night to take a little round.
I met my little sadie and I brought her down.
I ran right home and I went to bed
With a forty-four smokeless under my head.
I began to think what a deed Id done.
I grabbed my hat and I began to run.
I made a God run but I ran too slow;
They overtook me down in jericho
Standing on a corner a ringin my bell,
Up stepped the sheriff from thomasville.
He said young man is you name brown?
Remember you blowed sadie down.
Oh yes sir, my name is lee.
I murdered little sadie in the first degree.
First degree and second degree.
If youve got any papers will you serve them to me?
Well they took me down town and they dressed me in black,
They put me on a train and they sent me back.
I had no one to go my bail;
They crammed me back into the county jail.
Oh, yes they did.
The judge and the jury they took their stand.
The judge had the papers in his right hand.
Forty-one days, forty-one nights;
Forty-one years to wear the ball and the stripes;
Oh, no!
Went out last night to take a little round.
I met little sadie and I blowed her down.
I ran right home and I went to bed,
A forty-four smokeless under my head.

song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In The Way Back Then

Seven years ago,
I went back to Canada
after forty-two years.
I walked down a road
to show my wife where I used to live.
The road was built on rolling hills
and as I came over one,
I knew instantly where I was.
Things had changed
in those forty-two years,
some would say
it was unrecognisable
from what I used to know,
but as soon as I started down the hill
things came back like yesterday.
It was as if I had never been away.
Memories of my childhood
instantly sprang to mind.
I found myself seeing things
not as the now,
but there were changes
from the way back then.
The memory flashes
brought a smile to my face
as I could visualise
all the friends I knew then,
the funny incidents that over my life
in the way back then.
All too soon, time
has a way of taking things back
and my memory reclined them
to the back door of my mind.

30 April 2008

poem by David Harris
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Forty Years

(on the 10th anniversary of the end of world war ii)
Here in berlin - people line up to get in
To wait for the end - living in glorious sin
Theyve looked around - and now there is no looking back
To when rivers ran red - now its the sky that grows black
Shadows are cast as two giants roam over the earth
We light a match - but what is that little flame worth
Once allies danced and sang
But it was forty years ago
Here in d.c. - they talk about euro-disease
And how the french are always so damn hard to please
Otions are passed in brussels but no one agrees
And no one walks tall - but no-one gets down on their knees
Once allies laughed and drank
But it was forty years ago
Where I come from
They dont like americans much
They think theyre so loud, so tasteless, and so out of touch
Stiff upper lips are curled into permanent sneers
Self-satisfied
Awaiting the next forty years
Once allies cried and cheered
But it was forty years ago

song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am Told

For forty four years now

Each morning I woke up

I go straight to prepare

A cup of coffee for my wife

It's a ritual that I do

For forty four years

Not that she asks for it
But it's what I love to do

Love is what commands me

To lit a kettle to boil a water

For she likes it when its so hot

A coffee she drinks quite early

Suddenly, now that it's our anniversary

I do the thing I 've been doing ever since

We got married for forty four years back

Yet for the first time I am told just so today

That the coffee I served her now tasted bad

poem by Marvin Brato Sr
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Girl of Fifteen

Girl of fifteen,
I see you each morning from my window
As you pass on your way to school.
I do more than see, I watch you.
I furtively draw the curtain aside.
And my heart leaps through my eyes
And follows you down the street;
Leaving me behind, half-hid
And wholly ashamed.

What holds me back,
Half-hid behind the curtains and wholly ashamed,
But my forty years beyond your fifteen?
Girl of fifteen, as you pass
There passes, too, a lightning flash of time
In which you lift those forty summers off my head,
And take those forty winters out of my heart.

poem by James Weldon Johnson
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Back Street Affair (feat. Patty Loveless)

You didn't know I wasn't free
When you fell in love with me
And with all your young heart you learned to care
It brought you shame and disgrace
The world has tumbled in your face
'Cause they call our love a back street affair
They say I wrecked your home,
You're a husband that's gone wrong
They don't know the sorrow that we had to bear
For the one I'm tied to
was the first to prove untrue
Now they call our love a back street affair
We have each other now,
That's all that matters anyhow
For the judgment of gossip's never fair
We'll just be brave and strong
Then someday they'll see they're wrong
Let 'em call our love a back street affair
We'll be free to love someday
When all the talk has died away
and the happiness we hoped for then we'll share
We'll climb a mountain high,
then the world will hear us cry
That our love was not a back street affair
No, our love was not a back street affair

song performed by by John Prine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Back Street Affair

You didnt know I wasnt free
When you fell in love with me
And with all your young heart you learned to care
It brought you shame and disgrace
The world has tumbled in your face
cause they call our love a back street affair
They say I wrecked your home,
Youre a husband thats gone wrong
They dont know the sorrow that we had to bear
For the one Im tied to
Was the first to prove untrue
Now they call our love a back street affair
We have each other now,
Thats all that matters anyhow
For the judgment of gossips never fair
Well just be brave and strong
Then someday theyll see theyre wrong
Let em call our love a back street affair
Well be free to love someday
When all the talk has died away
And the happiness we hoped for then well share
Well climb a mountain high,
Then the world will hear us cry
That our love was not a back street affair
No, our love was not a back street affair

song performed by by John Prine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Back On The Street

They tell me Ive paid back the debt I owed
Forty-four months since the slammer door closed
They give me a suit and put me back on the road
And my thoughts are racing
Where do I go? what am I supposed to live on?
What happens when the twenty-five dollars is gone?
That leaves me lots of time to wonder why I was born
But the countdown is on
Everybodys dancing
The music sounds entrancing
But you cant find the beat
Its the ticking of a thousand human time bombs
Who are back on the street
Oh the names have been changed
But the storys the same
History will repeat
Add it all up and then divide it by zero
cause youre back on the street
I cant stand the strain of this job no more
I must have forgot what I took it on for
I make lots of money, yet still I want more
And my head is blazing
I think that Ill check out the shops downtown
Sometimes it helps to buy things when I feel brought down
At this hour I might dodge those hippie low-lifes around
But the countdown is on
Once you had to stand out
Looking for a handout
Free love and body heat
And that moneys just a crumpled green ball in your pocket
When youre back on the street
Back on the street again
Said youre back on the street again
The countdown is on
And nobody knows when
Spreading like a cancer
Looking for the answer
In everyone you meet
And each in his way has a hustle to play
When hes back on the street

song performed by by Utopia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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New York Groove

Many years since I was here, on the street I was passin my time away
To the left and to the right, buildings towering to the sky
Its outta sight in the dead of night
Here I am, and in this city, with a fistful of dollars
And baby, youd better believe
Chorus:
Im back, back in the new york groove
Im back, back in the new york groove
Im back, back in the new york groove
Back in the new york groove, in the new york groove
In the back of my cadillac
A wicked lady, sittin by my side, sayin where are we?
Stop at third and forty-three, exit to the night
Its gonna be ecstacy, this place was meant for me
Feels so good tonight, who cares about tomorrow
So baby, youd better believe
Chorus
Im back, back in the new york groove (repeats out)

song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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George Meredith

Forty years back, when much had place
That since has perished out of mind,
I heard that voice and saw that face.

He spoke as one afoot will wind
A morning horn ere men awake;
His note was trenchant, turning kind.

He was one of those whose wit can shake
And riddle to the very core
The counterfiets that Time will break....

Of late, when we two met once more,
The luminous countenance and rare
Shone just as forty years before.

So that, when now all tongues declare
His shape unseen by his green hill,
I scarce believe he sits not there.

No matter. Further and further still
Through the world's vaprous vitiate air
His words wing on--as live words will.

poem by Thomas Hardy
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Forty Years Of Warning

Why did God wait forty years after the death and resurrection of Jesus?

An entire generation?

Before was fulfilled the prophecy of Jesus about the destruction of the Temple and fate of Jerusalem!

The number forty is symbolic of trial testing and punishment in Biblical symbolism.

Moses lead the Israelites through forty years of punishment in the wilderness before a new generation
was allowed to enter
the promised land.

Was waiting this forty years
to definitively
prove God's patience?

To allow the Jews time to repent
to turn back to God
to exhibit appropriate
behaviour and worship
so that God could
bless them as God desired
instead of punishing
them as he had warned?

Copyright © Terence GeorgeCraddock
See also 'Temple And City Were Destroyed In 70 A.D.! ' and 'The Fall Of The Temple In 70 A.D.! '

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Edu-mac-cation

‘EDU-MAC-CATION’

I am going back to school to finish my education
Something, I should have done forty years ago
Will I succeed this time around?
Oh dear, I very much hope so

I have tried several times before
Somehow, I always failed
Couldn’t concentrate, hadn’t the patience
Think it’s time I got it nailed

GCSE’s in Maths and English
I have to follow those paths
Not so bad at English
Bloody useless at Maths

That was when I was in school
All of forty years ago
I was jack the lad back then
Now I really want to know

I know it has been coined before
Now, I believe it to be the truth
What some clever person said
Education is wasted on the youth

MICMAC

poem by Michael Micmac Mccrory
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looking Back An Overview Of A Life

Today, I turned forty three
So I look back or look ahead
Back to what I was or ahead to what I'll be
But not too far because then I'd be dead

I decided to look back then ttavel ahead
Exploring my most pivotal years
Remembering things people had said
Examining my deepest fears

Childhood, years of innocence and wonder
Everything to a child's eyes is new
Til one day, innocence is torn asunder
As surely as the sky will be blue

Teenage years, a sense of immortality
At such an age death is not even imagined
Doing everything with such youthful vitality
Not knowing the end is already predestined

Twenties and Thirties maturity is reached
And things just seem to fall into place
Your innocence, long since breached
Is remembered in the look on a child's face

In your Forties attaining middle age
Deciding that maturity looks good on you
Graying hair, against which you don't rage
You feel it's distinguished, how very true

poem by Harry J. Couchon Jr
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Forever Young

In life there is only one certainty
and that is one day we will die,
it is only a question of
how and when that remains a mystery.
Scientist the whole world over
would love to find the solution
that could extend our lives,
letting us live longer
yet remain in good health.
As the population now
is living longer with each passing year.
Four hundred years ago
if you were forty you were old,
but now at forty we are still young.
In another four hundred years,
people who are one hundred
may be classed as being young.
The world can only wait and see.

4 November 2009

poem by David Harris
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Those Legs That Once Could Run So Fast

Those legs that once could run so fast feel heavy now and slow
He sure is not the man he was some forty years ago
He played football with his young mates he drank till pub closing time
But that was many years ago when he was in his prime,
On looking back the decades time seems to have gone fast
He had his good days one must suppose though nothing seems to last
And time catches up on all of us though some with hair dye cover their gray
But Mother Nature on us all does have the final say,
Forty five years ago he was the hero of the local Football team
In the cup final he kicked the winning goal a boost to his self esteem
By his team-mates he was shouldered from the field of play the cheers for him rang loud
And thinking of his glorious hour still makes him feel so proud
And now at night he sits at home with his ageing and forgetful wife
And time is catching up on him one might say such is life.

poem by Francis Duggan
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The Rush to London

You’re off away to London now,
Where no one dare ignore you,
With Southern laurels on your brow,
And all the world before you.
But if you should return again,
Forgotten and unknowing,
Then one shall wait in wind and rain,
Where forty cheered you going.

You’re off away to London, proved,
Where fair girls shall adore you;
The poor, plain face of one that loved
May never rise before you.
But if you should return again,
When young blood ceases flowing,
Then one shall wait in wind and rain,
Where forty cheered you going.

It may be carelessly you spoke
Of never more returning,
But sometimes in the London smoke,
You’ll smell the gum leaves burning;
And think of how the grassy plain
Beyond the fog is flowing,
And one that waits in shine or rain,
Where forty cheered you going.

poem by Henry Lawson
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Breathlessley Speaking

I hit my brother and
My brother fell fainted and
His son got angry and
He hit me back and
I turned to hit him back and
Then mother-90 years, shouted and
She hit me for her turn and
Thus I got so many strokes and
It did'nt matter much but
Only made me feel sorry, for
Mother broke my only walking stick and
She screamed 'you're sixty and
your brother is seventy and
My grandson is forty and
I don't suppose a battlefield' and
Then my brother woke up and
Our fight started again and'I am Wellesley.
why I hit him 'cause
He has been calling me Breathlessley'.

poem by Indira Renganathan
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Sitting by the Fire

Barren Age and withered World!
Oh! the dying leaves,
Like a drizzling rain,
Falling round the roof -
Pattering on the pane!
Frosty Age and cold, cold World!
Ghosts of other days,
Trooping past the faded fire,
Flit before the gaze.
Now the wind goes soughing wild
O'er the whistling Earth;
And we front a feeble flame,
Sitting round the hearth!
Sitting by the fire,
Watching in its glow,
Ghosts of other days
Trooping to and fro.

Oh, the nights - the nights we've spent,
Sitting by the fire,
Cheerful in its glow;
Twenty summers back -
Twenty years ago!
If the days were days of toil
Wherefore should we mourn;
There were shadows near the shine,
Flowers with the thorn?
And we still can recollect
Evenings spent in mirth -
Fragments of a broken life,
Sitting round the hearth:
Sitting by the fire,
Cheerful in its glow,
Twenty summers back -
Twenty years ago.

Beauty stooped to bless us once,
Sitting by the fire,
Happy in its glow;
Forty summers back -
Forty years ago.
Words of love were interchanged,
Maiden hearts we stole;
And the light affection throws
Slept on every soul.
Oh, the hours went flying past -
Hours of priceless worth;
But we took no note of Time,
Sitting round the hearth:
Sitting by the fire,
Happy in its glow,
Forty summers back -
Forty years ago.

Gleesome children were we not?
Sitting by the fire,
Ruddy in its glow,
Sixty summers back -
Sixty years ago.
Laughing voices filled the room;
Oh, the songs we sung,
When the evenings hurried by -
When our hearts were young!
Pleasant faces watched the flame -
Eyes illumed with mirth -
And we told some merry tales,
Sitting round the hearth:
Sitting by the fire,
Ruddy in its glow,
Sixty summers back -
Sixty years ago.

Barren Age and withered World!
Oh, the dying leaves,
Like a drizzling rain,
Falling round the roof -
Pattering on the pane!
Frosty Age and cold, cold World!
Ghosts of other days,
Trooping past the faded fire,
Flit before the gaze.
Now the wind goes soughing wild
O'er the whistling Earth;
And we front a feeble flame,
Sitting round the hearth:
Sitting by the fire,
Watching, in its glow,
Ghosts of other days
Trooping to and fro!

poem by Henry Kendall
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